by Susan Lain
Alek closed the gap between them, his gaze never wavering from Eliot's. "I…I'll see what I can do."
Eliot nodded—and stifled a deep yawn. He checked his wristwatch. He hadn't realized it had gotten so late. "Maybe we could continue in the morning? It's been a long-ass day."
Alek straightened up, nodded, and gestured in the direction of the lobby and the elevators. "I'll escort you home."
Eliot's heart skipped a beat. "Would you, uh, like to have some dinner first? There's this pretty good Italian restaurant close by. Since you work here, you probably know it already."
"I'm sorry but I've got to rush home," Alek said, clearing his throat and avoiding Eliot's eyes. "I've got, uh, someone waiting for me."
Eliot gulped, disheartened and embarrassed. So Alek had a boyfriend. A live-in boyfriend. Or a girlfriend. Maybe even a husband or a wife.
He plastered a polite smile on his face. "Just a thought. No biggie."
A long, silent, and uncomfortable walk and elevator ride later, Alek and Eliot reached the parking area. Like all parking structures, this too was a boring gray concrete monstrosity with zero esthetic appeal. The area was reserved to government building employees, so there was no graffiti or trash anywhere apart from a couple of twigs or tiny piles of leaves blown in. Since the hour was so late, most of the lots were empty of vehicles. A handful of company cars were left to occupy the echoing, vacated halls.
Eliot wondered how to mend fences with the sullen agent. Alek's reticence had a cause, and Eliot found himself puzzled what it would take to heat up the man's icy defenses.
So focused on his ponderings was Eliot that he didn't notice the three men clad in black till they were directly on their path—pointing guns at them.
Chapter Eleven
"Hands where we can see them," the closest man growled.
Both Eliot and Alek raised their arms toward the sky, Eliot immediately, Alek more slowly.
Alek studied the men who stood at equal distance from each other, astride, unmoving. There was no uncertainty in their stances. They were camouflaged in black gear, masks, and boots. Their handguns had silencers. They weren't robbers. Professionals.
"What do you want?" Alek asked, his tone sure and steady. He inched closer to Eliot in an effort to block any potential shots from hitting the civilian. He argued whether to reveal both he and Eliot were government employees in the hopes that it might dissuade the attackers from hurting or killing them. Hell, that fact might make the villains more eager to kill them.
"Shut up," the leader hissed and waved his gun at them. "Into the car. Go."
Alek knew in that instant they were in serious trouble. If this group cared about blood evidence and not leaving tracks, they weren't assassins, per se, but hired thugs. And wherever they wanted to take Alek and Eliot, it wouldn't be anywhere good.
He had to stop this in its tracks or Eliot could die. Alek wasn't about to let that happen.
A car honked on a lower level, a screech of tires following.
One of the goons turned his head. It was incremental but definite.
Alek availed himself of the window of opportunity. He twirled around on one foot and with the other kicked the gun out of the thug's hand.
The gun went off. A muffled pop echoed in the garage.
The third would-be killer released a muted grunt and dropped his weapon. He doubled over holding his stomach, staggered backward, and fell on the ground. Blood pooled under him from a gunshot wound through his abdomen. That was where the errant bullet had struck.
"Eliot, get down!" Alek screamed as he rammed the leader, his shoulder slamming hard on the main thug's midsection, the move befitting a quarterback.
The leader oomphed but quickly recovered, whacking Alek's upper back with his elbow. Alek was forced to let go or risk serious injury.
Out of the corner of his eye, Alek saw that Eliot had taken cover behind the car's rear bumper, but that he also kept peeking out to see what was happening.
"Fucking asshole," the goon murmured and pointed his gun squarely at Alek's chest.
Alek rolled to the side—and drew his own weapon from his back holster, firing the second he got the chance.
Two shots were fired.
Pain slammed into Alek's shoulder and he fell onto his back, bashing his head against the floor. His vision distorted and he couldn't think. Waves of fresh anguish sliced through his senses.
Raising as best he could, Alek blinked through the red haze—and found the lead goon on the run, holding his side, blood raining down and leaving an easy trail to follow. His weapon had fallen on the ground.
"Oh my God, Alek!" Eliot, who'd apparently seen the whole thing from his cowering vantage point, rushed to kneel at Alek's side, wrapped an arm under his upper back, and helped him up into a sitting position. "You're insane."
"Where's the guy I kicked?" Alek murmured sluggishly, unable to focus on anything. Pain ripped his arm and spread from there to his whole body.
"I knocked him out before he got up," Eliot replied, speaking fast and fearful.
Alek was flummoxed to hear this. "How?"
Eliot shrugged. "Hit him with a stick when I came out of hiding."
Alek laughed. He couldn't help it. The sound was less joy, more hysterics. "Jesus Christ, Eliot."
Eliot didn't respond. He fiddled with his cell phone. "I'm calling an ambulance."
"No, just drive me home," Alek pleaded, trying to swat Eliot's phone aside.
Eliot slapped him on the hand hard. "Shut up. You have no say in this. You're going to the fucking hospital if I have to drag you there myself, bound and gagged."
For the first time since the attack was resolved, Alek was glad he'd been shot and that the pain controlled his sensations—or he would have gotten an untimely boner from the host of images Eliot's words unintentionally sprang into his mind.
So he acquiesced in silence. Perhaps the hospital would drug him unconscious.
*~*~*
"Wow. I had no idea you lived in Onyx on First." Eliot whistled low as they entered the gray-stone high-rise building under the white canopy with turquoise glass. He'd insisted on returning Alek home from the hospital as well. "Must be expensive."
"I sort of inherited the apartment," Alek replied vaguely. He didn't wish to go into it. And yes, owning a penthouse suite on the top floor wasn't cheap, not in the least. But that was a discussion for another time. "It's close to work."
They entered the main lobby with dark wood wall paneling and white marble floors. The concierge station and the resident lounge were to the right and the elevators to the left. Potted plants added flashes of greenery and a couple of black-and-white paintings added old-fashioned class to the decor.
"You're not on the top floor, are you?" Eliot asked once they'd stepped into the elevator, a mild, odorless quality to the top-of-the-line establishment.
"Yes, I am," Alek replied curtly. He couldn't explain why he felt so sullen and withdrawn, but his mood had definitely soured since the reluctant trip to the ER.
"This is pretty upscale," Eliot noted, rocking back and forth on his feet. "You must have some awesome amenities here."
"Rooftop lounge, swimming pool, fitness center, concierge," Alek answered.
"Twenty-four hour room service and mints on pillows?" Eliot teased, quirking a grin.
"This isn't a hotel," Alek shot back, completely missing the jest. He only realized it after Eliot's smile faltered and he ducked his head. "Sorry. Guess the painkillers are wearing off."
Eliot looked up again, a soft, sympathetic smile on his lips. "I understand."
Alek absentmindedly rubbed his injured arm. He'd felt the initial impact on his shoulder, but the bullet had only grazed the top of his arm. He didn't even need a sling, just stitches for the laceration. Man, had it really been so long since the last time he'd gotten shot that he'd forgotten the wonky and displaced feeling of it?
On the fourteenth floor, Alek slouched his way to his door. The well
-lit corridor gave him a headache. Thankfully the apartment would be dimmed by thick curtains. He unlocked the door and stepped aside to let Eliot in, only then crossing the threshold himself.
"This is nice," Eliot remarked.
Alek couldn't tell by his tone if Eliot was being condescending. Was he interpreting it that way simply due to his current frame of mind? If that was the case, he didn't want to let it show.
"Thanks," he murmured, moving past Eliot.
He pulled open the platinum-colored sliding wall with a small window separating the entry hallway from the bedroom on the right. He kicked off his shoes by the side of the door and made his way through the sleeping area to the bathroom to wash his hands.
"Did you decorate this place yourself?" Eliot asked, following Alek slowly, taking in the interiors with a seemingly admiring gaze.
Alek frowned. He'd never really paid much attention to what his apartment might look like to a visitor. He noted the sparse furniture, the white-blue-brown color tones, and the empty walls with a few mirrors here and there. God, was his place too minimalist?
Then again, Eliot didn't live here, so what did it matter?
"No, I got it fully furnished. I just removed paintings and replaced them with mirrors to add some sense of space." Alek washed his face, wincing at the twinge of pain in his arm as skin and muscle stretched.
Eliot came to stand on the threshold. "This a two-bedroom flat?"
"Yes. But I use the other room as a den for when I work from home." Alek knew the place was small, but this wasn't the suburbs.
"So…" Eliot stood in the doorway, looking hesitant, biting his bottom lip, his gaze darting about. "Is your, uh, significant other here? I don't want to be in the way."
Confused, Alek stared at Eliot. Why would Eliot say that? When had Alek implied that he lived with someone? Then he recalled mentioning hurrying home because he had company. Fuck, he hadn't meant to discourage or mislead Eliot that much.
"No, you misunderstood—" he started.
Then the rapping began from the front door. Faint barking could be heard.
Eliot started, his eyes rounding in shock. "What's that?"
Alek hurried to the door and let the puppies in as they stormed his feet, trying to climb and nip at them, till Alek couldn't move.
A smiling Ms. Appleby handed Alek the leashes. "They've been wonderful today."
"Thank you kindly, Hannah. You're a national treasure." Alek fished a fifty-dollar bill from his pants pocket.
Hannah stopped him, shaking her head firmly. "I'm good right now. Maybe later. They're fed and had their walks. Good night." She cooed at the puppies who licked her hands till she ambled off toward her own apartment.
Somehow, with the leash wrapped around his ankles, Alek managed to steer the puppies inside fully and close the door.
"Come on. Scram." He shooed the pack of black puppies away so he could disentangle himself from the leather chains. Finally free, he sighed. "Oh, thank goodness."
"Who are these precious darlings?"
Eliot had knelt and was laughing, his arms full of eager little black dogs, each sloppy with their tongue, woofs and yapping filling the air. He hugged all of them in turn, crooning soft words of delight and endearment.
Alek's heart skipped a beat at the sight. Seeing Eliot interacting with his dogs completely turned around his mood—and his dick jumped in his pants. Fuck.
"They're the ones I live with; the only company I keep," Alek explained slowly, taking the time to ensure Eliot understood his point this time.
Eliot looked up, surprised and happy. "Oh. My mistake. They're beautiful."
"My babies." Alek let warmth seep into his voice. He loved the little buggers.
"Who's this?" A charcoal-colored puppy with pointy reddish ears licked Eliot's cheek.
"That's Adjule." Alek smiled. The smallest dog of the pack was also the most affectionate and definitely the rowdiest. "The biggest there is Gévaudan, or Gév; the one with the floppy ears is Elmendorf, or Elm; the one with the gray socks as paws is Garou; Sigbin has the white patches; and that one with the long swishy tail is Wucharia, or Wu."
Eliot gave him an odd, amused look. "Not the most usual pet names, are they?"
Alek flushed with heat. He wasn't embarrassed. Eliot's amusement told Alek that his guest was more impressed than mocking. "They're canine cryptids, if you must know."
Eliot giggled. "Should have known. Aww. They're so cute. The most adorable things I've seen in ages."
"Even after a day spent with mythkin, especially rainomalies and photon faeries?" Alek teased this time.
Eliot blushed, his smile widening. Alek was glad and relieved that he'd inspired that lovely gesture and sentiment. "It's a close tie, I reckon. The puppies win."
As the pups showered Eliot with slobbering love, Alek found himself walking on air to the kitchen. It was an open corridor leading from the door to the living room, with the kitchen area on the right and a dark wooden dining bar counter serving as a table on the left. The bathroom, another narrow hallway-type of space, was on the other side of the wall, behind the kitchen.
"You hungry?" Alek asked, rummaging the fridge for meal supplies.
An ice imp snored in the freezer. It was a subspecies of heat freaks, absorbing ambient heat and emitting subzero air in return. The theory was that it ate something more in the other phase. The thing was lazy as fuck, spending most of its time dozing off. Alek caught sight of an adorable white furball—the only mythkin known to have fur—with four compact limbs, tiny clawed paws at the end, and droopy ears. The tiny creature coiled around itself, snuffling cutely in its sleep. Thanks to ice imps, refrigerators no longer needed any electrical wiring. Just stuff one into any storage space and you had a self-contained freezer on your hands. Ice cubes, snow, frost and ice tended to draw them near.
"I guess." A telltale rumble in Eliot's stomach confirmed his state. Out of the corner of his eye, Alek observed Eliot flush red after the involuntary sound his body made.
"Please stay for dinner," Alek invited Eliot, quite more bluntly than he intended.
Eliot merely smiled and nodded in response. Perhaps he had grown accustomed to Alek's terse conversational skills and gruff, laconic manners.
"How would you feel about, uh," Alek peered into the fridge. "Spicy kale and coconut with stir-fried rice?"
Eliot smacked his lips. "Sounds divine."
Trying not to beam too much, Alek went to work on the dinner. As he sautéed the shredded kale and cooked the black rice, he noted with no small amount of pleasure how easily Eliot seemed to fit into the mix. Eliot didn't need to fill the companionable silence but instead minced the cloves of garlic, chopped the green onions and red bell peppers, and cut the lime.
Neither of them were even bothered by the snake-like tongue and hiss from the heat freak in the stove. Alek typically liked the sound, just not the behavior of the damn thing.
Soon they were ready to dine. While Alek brought the meal, Eliot set the counter table.
"Mmm, I sure love the smell of coconut," Eliot praised as he took a seat at the dining bar counter, his eager smile and shining eyes doing wonderful things to Alek's body and mind. Eliot appeared as golden bright as the coconut flakes in the meal.
"I make a mean passion fruit pie," Alek said. He had no idea where the words came from, even though they were true. "Well, it's a tart really."
Eliot grinned, practically bouncing on the chair. "Sounds amazing. I'd love to try it."
Alek swallowed hard as he too sat down. "Maybe one day." To avoid the awkwardness of an unmade invitation, Alek filled Eliot's glass. "Orange juice okay with you?"
"Yeah." Eliot took a sip after Alek had finished pouring. "Freshly squeezed?"
Alek coughed to clear his throat. "Hannah—uh, the girl who brought my dogs—has family in California. They ship her fruit on occasion."
Eliot ate a bite of his steaming hot dinner, hummed with pleasure, and then asked, "Your neighbor wat
ches your dogs during the day?"
"Yes. Hannah works from home. IT support or some such. She's a nice woman."
Eliot ducked his head, but a small smirk graced his lips. "You and she ever…?"
Alek drew in a sharp breath, shocked. "What? No, I'm gay," came out of his mouth before he thought better of it.
Only after the echo of his words had faded did he realize he'd just come out to a colleague who was, for all intents and purposes, a complete stranger. He braced himself for the usual reactions, all of them negative.
Eliot, however, smiled wider. "Finally you and I have something in common."
Gobsmacked, even though he'd secretly wished to hear exactly that, Alek could do nothing but stare, eyes wide and mouth gaping. His muddled brain refused to divulge if this was a good or a bad thing.
Chapter Twelve
How they managed to finish dinner together was a mystery to Eliot. In any case, after his confession of being as gay as Alek, Eliot found himself sitting at the table virtually alone. Alek sank into a moody silence, his gaze aimed at his meal, a frown marring his high forehead.
Eliot sighed in resignation. Apparently having a love for men in common didn't bring Alek out of his shell any more than before. In fact, the opposite was true now. So Eliot focused on eating quickly but, as relaxed as he could, so he could make his getaway and forget the whole night.
Which was a shame because he'd felt like he'd grown to understand Alek a bit more, that they'd connected over shared interests and a gunfight, and a profound adoration of dogs. But guess not.
Hannah might not have been Alek's type but apparently neither was Eliot. Which was a damn shame. Eliot wouldn't have minded the idea of jumping in the sack with the hot-and-cold agent, just to shut him up and wipe that arrogance off his face for a time.
"Thank you for inviting me into your home," Eliot stated once his plate was empty and his utensils were set down to four-thirty. "You're a great cook. Your pups must love you."
Alek blinked, his brows still knitted. He said nothing, though, merely nodded curtly.
Eliot made to stand but since Alek hadn't finished, it would have been rude. So Eliot sat in place, uncomfortable and stiff. He wanted the night to end. He was tired. Then he realized he was far from home, too far for a lonely late-night walk through town.